


Cubicles

by franks_hands



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: But maybe it's not fluff? idk how to write fluff?, Fluff, Frerard, M/M, Office AU, vampire!Gerard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2225862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franks_hands/pseuds/franks_hands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m a vampire.”<br/>Frank laughed, gripping the steering wheel and shaking his head. He’d slept with some weird-ass people in the past, but this guy pretty much topped everyone else in that department.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cubicles

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I don't read fluff a lot and i've never really tried writing it. So this is my first ever attempt at writing fluff, as you will probably be able to tell. The thing is I'm not completely sure this even constitutes as fluff but it's worth a shot, I guess? Okay anyway, enjoy.

“I’m a vampire.”

Frank laughed, gripping the steering wheel and shaking his head. He’d slept with some weird-ass people in the past, but this guy pretty much topped everyone else in that department.

“I’m a vampire.” Frank muttered, under his breath as he stopped at a red light.

Having spent the entirety of his Sunday in a half-asleep daze on his couch, watching reruns of bad reality TV shows, the memories of Saturday night were only now coming back to him. At least, what was left of them. A lot of the memories seemed to be missing, something Frank had learned to blame on the copious amounts of alcohol he usually consumed when he went out on the weekends.

He could remember what the man looked like; really pretty with pale skin and dyed black hair. Lips that had this red tint to them, almost as if he was wearing lipstick that didn’t rub off when he kissed Frank. What stood out in Frank’s memories was the fact that he was really, really pretty. That was probably why Frank had taken him home in the first place; he couldn’t quite remember.

The pretty face, though, became somehow less appealing when Frank remembered what the man had said to him, mid-fuck.

He’d leaned in closer to Frank, lips brushing over his ear for a moment, sending chills down Frank’s spine, and then he seemed to smile as he whispered, voice low and slightly scratchy,“I’m a vampire.” His tone was seductive and if he’d been saying something that wasn’t so incredibly strange and off-putting, Frank would have probably melted in his arms.

After that incident, Frank couldn’t really remember much. In fact he couldn’t remember anything after the man said that to him. He couldn’t even remember how he’d reacted. He very well may have laughed in the guy’s face. “A vampire? Dude, what the hell are you talking about? How much did you drink? Jeez.”

Frank was just glad that vampire-guy had left before morning.

“What a weirdo.” He pulled into the parking lot and found himself in his cubicle five minutes later, having already endured Toro’s comments on the angry purple hickies that spotted his neck. He’d been sort of horrified to discover those in the mirror that morning. Maybe the weirdo he’d brought home actually thought he was a vampire and in an attempt to suck Frank’s blood had just ended up giving Frank an array of hickies that were impossible to hide, even with the hair Frank had grown out in order to cover his tattoos. There was nothing about the bruising that didn’t scream, “I got laid this weekend!” loud and clear.

Frank was booting up his laptop when his cell phone buzzed twice in the pocket of his jacket, alerting him of a text message. He pulled it out, fingers brushing against something unfamiliar.

       A piece of paper, edges jagged as if it had been ripped from a larger piece, with words scrawled in dark pen.

       There were seven digits and underneath them was written, I want to see you again ASAP – xoxo G. Frank had to resist the urge to groan, immediately crumpling the paper and tossing it in the little trash can he kept under his desk. He wasn’t calling that weirdo. He was not getting involved with someone who that they were a vampire. He wasn’t into the whole super hot on the outside, batshit crazy on the inside kind of thing.

       It only occurred to Frank ten minutes later that the jacket he was wearing had been hanging in his closet all weekend. That meant vampire-guy had actually gone into his closet in order to put the note in his pocket. So he was crazy and he was a creep.  

Frank just shook his head, staring at the work in front of him. He needed to get shit done. He didn’t want to get on Bob’s bad side again. Dwelling over the loon he’d fucked that weekend was getting him nowhere.

 

Any thoughts of a pale, dark-haired weirdo were gone from Frank’s mind by the next hour, as he made his way to the copy room, ducking into a coworker’s cubicle and making forced small-talk on the way in order to avoid a run-in with Bob. He would get hell for those hickies.

       The copy machine was an ancient, clunky thing that was definitely on the last leg of its life. It wasn’t the most reliable, but it was the only one on Frank’s floor. Most people took their time to go up or down a floor, making use of newer, less intimidating machines, but Frank usually couldn’t be bothered to take on a flight of stairs. He liked to blame it on smoking, but it was mostly laziness.

       So, the copy room was usually quite desolate. Frank was among the few employees that still ventured into that small space, and he rarely found it occupied.

       He was surprised, on this particular Monday, to find it occupied.

       But not by Dale, the overweight gray-haired man, or Lisa, who was an even heavier smoker than Frank.

       It took Frank a moment to even realize that he was not, in fact, alone in the copy room. Because his company wasn’t stood on the ground.

       There was a dark figure hanging from the ceiling. At first glance, Frank hadn’t thought it to be a human figure. Someone’s dry cleaning or something. It was a human figure, though, and a familiar one, at that.

       Hanging from one of the ceiling beams, knees bent tight over the metal, head upside-down at the lowest point, arms crossed mummy-style over his chest, was vampire-guy.

       Frank’s mind went completely blank for a moment. He was hallucinating, wasn’t he? He’d thought he was done worrying about this guy, but apparently he’d developed a strange obsession without even realizing it.

       Hallucinations don’t talk, right? Frank thought as the man grinned at him and said, “Frankie.” His voice sounded disappointed, “I can’t believe you’d just throw away my number like that.”

       “I. Uh.” Okay, so this was real. Weird as hell, but real.

       He looked like a bat, Frank realized, all dark clothes, long jacket hanging down awkwardly almost like wings, arms folded in like how bats held their wings when they slept. This guy was really playing up the whole vampire thing. He really was absolutely, completely batshit crazy.

       “How did you—I…” Frank stammered.

       “What?” He pouted, or at least Frank thought so. It was kind of hard to tell when he was upside-down like that. “You didn’t see me waving at you from outside your window?”

       Frank was one of the ones on his floor lucky enough to get a cubicle next to a window. A chill ran up his spine as he realized he might have been being watched for the past hour or so. His cheeks heated up. He was embarrassed. Crazy or not, this guy was really attractive. And Frank probably looked like a total dork when he worked, oh god.

       For a moment, the words tenth floor flashed across Frank’s mind, but then the sound of footsteps approached the doorway and Frank spun around to find Dale entering the room, coffee cup in one hand, a small stack of papers in the other. He shot Frank a bright smile, as usual, and then smiled past him, to where vampire-guy was suddenly stood, feet firm on the ground and seeming to tower over Frank.

       It was weird that now that he was on the ground, he seemed taller than he had when he was on the ceiling. It was also weird that Frank hadn’t even heard him get down, that there really hadn’t even been time for him to get down.

       Dale moved past both of them, to the copying machine and got to work, greeting them both with a short, “Frank. Gerard.”

       Frank gaped at the dark-haired man. Gerard. He remembered hearing that now.

       Gerard. Gerard the vampire.

       Frank’s head spun and then he was walking, leaving the copy room without the copies he’d gone in there to make, hiding in the seclusion of his cubicle.

       Gerard. Gerard the vampire who also happened to be his coworker, apparently.

       Okay, so that was weird, Frank decided. Really, really weird.

       All he knew for sure was that he didn’t want to run into Gerard the vampire again. He wanted to save himself the awkward sweatiness of his palms and the uncomfortable feeling of being both very attracted to and very creeped out by the same person.

       When Frank found a note hidden underneath his laptop, he threw it away almost immediately, wrinkling it into a ball in his hands after briefly pausing to read it.

       Thought you would have recognized me the other night. Guess I shouldn’t have expected so much of a mere mortal like yourself -- xoxo G

       Frank’s face turned bright red when he read it, and then he swore he could hear a low chuckle tickle the back of his neck, just behind his ear. When he swiveled his chair around, in an instant, quick and somehow completely out of breath, there was no one in sight.

 

By eight AM the next morning, walking in to work, Frank had decided that it had been a dream. It was easier to work if he pretended none of it had actually happened.

       It was hard to pretend that none of it had actually happened, though, when Frank booted up his laptop, typed in his username and password, and a word document popped up with the words top drawer of filing cabinet typed in. There were butterflies in his stomach all over again. He hadn’t created that document.

       Frank’s palms were already sweaty when he rolled his chair over a few feet, slowly pulling out the top drawer of his filing cabinet and finding three pieces of paper on top of his files.

       Two of them were wrinkled and creased. The notes from yesterday. The third was new, scrawled in the same handwriting.

       You just look so appetizing. I could literally eat you up. PS, look down.

       Frank did as the note instructed, and then all in the same moment, two things happened.

       The first thing, which made Frank jump in his chair, was that his boss walked up, leaning over the short wall of his cubicle.

       The second thing, which nearly gave Frank a fucking heart attack, was that Gerard was there. Down there, under his desk, with this shit eating grin on his face, as if he was just barely keeping the laughter inside. He was all curled up, sitting on the ground with his knees bent up and pulled close to him, arms tight around his legs, head bowed slightly to keep from knocking it on the underside of the desk. After a moment of panic, Frank watched Gerard bring a hand to his mouth, biting on it as his face turned red. His shoulders shook with silent laughter.

       And for some reason, the first thing Frank thought to do was to scoot his chair under his desk so that Bob wouldn’t be able to see Gerard and so that Frank could talk with Bob as if there wasn’t a coworker inches away from his jean-clad knees.

       “Hey, dude.” Frank greeted Bob, and he just knew his face was the color of a fucking stop sign. He was trying to play it cool, as if he hadn’t almost suffered of a heart attack.

       Bob wasn’t in a good mood, so he got straight to the point. No small talk. “We’ve got execs coming in today, Frank, and you’re wearing ripped jeans.”

       Frank’s mouth formed a small circle, as if whispering a silent, “oh, shit.” And Bob groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes to show Frank just how frustrated he was with him. If Frank hadn’t known Bob as well as he did, he would have guessed that he was actually about to be fired on the spot.

But Frank’s change in facial expression hadn’t been due to the fact that he was getting in trouble with his boss. It had to do with the fact that there was a sneaky hand that had suddenly appeared on his knee, fingers pushing past the hole in the jean fabric to make small circles against Frank’s leg hair.

“Just stay in your cubicle. Please, for Christ’s sake stay in your cubicle. If they come and talk to you, be polite but act busy. Don’t let them see your motherfucking tattoos, for the love of god.” He was about to walk off, looking all hurried and flustered. Frank was close to letting out a moan of relief because the hand was now halfway up his thigh and if Bob stuck around any longer he was going to see Frank do something potentially extremely embarrassing.

But there was one more item to be addressed.

“And the hickies. Don’t. Let them. See. The hickies.” And with that, he was off.

Frank let out a little whine, rolling his chair back a few feet and spinning it around to face the opposite direction. He had to fight the urge to press a hand against his crotch.

       “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He asked. But there was no reply. When he turned back around, the space beneath his desk was empty.

 

That was the last Frank saw of Gerard that day, unless the note placed neatly on the seat of his locked car counted.

       This one wasn’t crumpled, but it looked a lot like the first note. On it was written the same exact thing—the number and then “I want to see you again ASAP – xoxo G”.

       But on this note, there was an addition, just under where it was signed.

       I hope you know that by ‘see’, I also mean ‘kiss’ and ‘suck’ and ‘fuck’ and also ‘taste’. But, y’know. Only if you’re okay with all that.

       He thought that maybe it was weird, but Frank was okay with all that.

       This time, he didn’t throw the note away until much later, after he’d already stored the number into his phone, after his third date with Gerard.

       Gerard, who, months later, Frank still referred to as ‘vampire-weirdo’.

Because he was a vampire, and he was weird, and he was so totally amazing.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment telling me how you liked (or didn't like lmao) the story! Your comment doesn't even have to make sense I just love reading comments and I'm thirsty for attention!! Yay!


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